Trouble
by Loveforthestory
Summary: When Bass is boiling with rage from everything that is going on, he needs a minute. He finds it in an empty room upstairs in a safe house. It is where Charlie finds him.
1. Chapter 1 A piece of him

Rage.

He had felt it in the compressed air around him as he felt the fucking urge to rip something apart. To bang Miles into the wall until his brother was done with this whole pathetic Rachel thing that made his brother resemble some dog on a leash these days. He just had a faceoff with Miles in front of another fucking safe house. Another day on the road. Another day of arguing how to win this damn war. He was done. Miles had walked away, he had walked back into the empty silent house.

He had shut the door with one swing of his boot to shut everyone up and out.

He had found himself in an empty room with as a desk in front of him that mocked all the years he once had been behind it. God he knew it had been only a year, but that life was now an echo, his new life crashing in.

Rage.

Rage for Miles, and the fact that he felt his brother wanted to back him up, but when his guilt came around, he kept quiet when Rachel was blazing him away with cold words and her whining you are not him, you are not Monroe crap. The bitch who could look at Miles with those sad hypocritical eyes of hers and without even blinking whine about how she and Miles were not like him. Not like the big bad he was. Was he the only one remebering all the shit Miles did? Was he the only one realising this bitch would shove a screwdriver in somebodies chest?

And all of that coming from the bitch that had left her family and marched her hypocritical ass straight to Philly, where she had walked into stables, where Miles had been busy with strategy and taking care of shit on a early morning. She had left Ben behind. Her son. Always wore that damn wedding ring of hers. She had left them behind.

And Charlie.

And he'd be dammed if they did not both know why _she_ had left them, coming to Philly instead of Ben. And for who.

He let a fast sharp huff of hair out through his nose. The hypocrisy, the choices of that woman. More rage. Rage there most of all because he felt left in the dark by Miles. Rage for finding himself here again, like years had not passed and he was right back at that corner.

There was one more person who he knew for a fact was not dealing well with all of Rachel Matheson's bullshit these days.

Charlie.

He made the mistake of thinking about her too long.

The girl he had found with his kid, as his kid's fingers were moving through her hair there when Connor was sitting with Charlie at the bar, in New Vegas before he had joined them after his meeting with Duncan. They met again in that crowded humid tent. Bass did not know fur fucking sure what happened between Charlie and his kid.

But the look on his kid's face had made him want to kill something. Connor was probably next to her finishing what he had started when he had let her walk out of that tent with his son. Because _dammit,_ he had walked Duncan back to her tent, not missing the look on Charlie's face when he had made sure she was not in that negotiation. He couldn't. Because hell, the history between him and Duncan. It had made him uncomfortable. Swallowing thickly when he had stood in front of Duncan with Connor on his right, and more importantly, her, Charlie on his left before she had pulled her gun and he had felt a combination of rage and getting hard. And to get what he wanted, which was not Duncan but her men, involved not having Charlie around when he turned on the charm.

But hell, walking into that tent, seeing the last moment of Connor brushing through her hair before they realised he was fucking there too, set his muscles on fire with rage. Connor was taking something he shouldn't. He would give him the world.

But not her.

Not Charlie.

Connor so close to her was something he could not fucking take. Which was Connor taking something that he shouldn't. Because she had shared a road with him. And the moment she found some part deep in her that made her save his ass when Texas didn't, she did not even know he had given her a piece of himself

And fuck, if had felt like she was his, his girl, as she had walked close to him when they walked into Vegas. His to protect.

The thoughts that moved so easily and more often and thoughts that grew more intense were there fucking again. In this empty room in a desolated safe house on the road.

He was alone.

His cock started to grow. Hardness was waiting for her without her there to give him the release, the warmth, the touch, the warm stimulating intensity of her breath against his skin.

It was not the first time.

His large hand, his fingers rough by years of swords and guns in his hand, went to his pants. The zipper. Readjusting himself and taking his cock in his hand. Bass looked down as he closed his eyes. The head in the palm of his hand. He saw her. Saw her coming out of a river late at night, when her nipples came through her tank. He saw her.

He placed one hand to steady him in front of him, on the steady wood of the top of the wooden desk and leaned in a bit.

Her hair fighting with the wind as she blew somebody away with a grace and deadly aim that belonged to her, only to her. And then, he saw her. And was that not the fucking image that made him start pumping even harder. Her, willingly, letting her hands go through his hair, as he jerked her hips over his cock, inviting him in, as her eyes were all challenge, to fuck her until she was sated. A challenge he happily accepted every fucking damn time.

And when he started to pump harder, he realised it. He realised it too late. He was not alone in the room anymore.

He felt it, his shoulders tensing. As he turned around, cock still in hand, no time for anything else but to catch her staring at him, in the room with him.

Charlie watched him. She had heard the rustle of faint and deep panting across the hall that came in jerks of taken breath. Everybody else was busy, and she had watched her uncle bud heads with Monroe. The afternoon sun in his eyelashes that were light blonde, his jacket, his casual but raw strength movement of his upper body when boots with sand on it carried him inside. She had followed him after a while, getting up from her place on the porch where no one had seen her.

He had not even seen her. Heard her.

The rush of the image of such a private intense moment getting to her core. She watched Monroe. Face turned away from her. The suggestive movement of his arm, making movements that made her head spin, biting her lip, feeling her hips tense up and her thighs too.

One of his hands, strong long fingers and what they could do many things to her flashing through her mind, rested on the desk. His jacket around his shoulder, his arms making jerking movements that made her panties even more drenched. Because she could not see what he was doing, but that one long arm clad in black leather, fuck, she could come again thinking about that arm, that long tall man standing there. His pants open but still around his ass. His head slightly turned to the table top. His breathing faster, but with contained groaning, waiting and ready to combust.

He jerked of the way he fought.

His boots placed in front of the table, legs apart as he stood there, tall and so steady.

She had almost made a mistake in Vegas. Almost. She almost gave in to a piece of him, that was much like him, but not him. And now she saw him there, him, in the half dark, his strength wrapped in that leather jacket she knew she had waited for him, for all of him.

Monroe's raspy voice broke through her thougts, through her core pulsing and reached her through the room.

'Fucking hell, Charlotte. Can you see it from there or do you need a better look?' Fury raged through his voice as he felt the shift in his cock.

That was until she moved towards him, and she stood now behind him. He watched want burn in her eyes he had given up hope to ever see there for him. She had closed the door already, and now he was not alone anymore. Not with his rage and thoughts and her thighs in his mind wrapped around him, him, her, the desk in front of him.

She was here now too. She moved towards him as she watched him there. So tall, so strong and his boots so firmly on the ground, black leather, black boots, that it made her take in a breath of concentrated want and screaming desire. She told herself to breath, to look, to wait. To play this out. They were only going to do this once.

This torturing slow approach. As she stood behind him, her eyebrow lightly lifted, but her eyes another colour of blue then they normally were.

'This is much better, Monroe.' She said casually and with a smirk that made him even more pissed.

Until she placed her hands on his shoulders and let them flow to his waist as she felt the firmness and hardness of his flanks through his jacket. She let her hands flow over to his thighs. She stopped there.

'God damm...' He cursed something, as his eyes were everywhere, before they turned into an intense steal look.

Bass almost could not think anymore. She was not here to mess with him, she was here for him. For a piece of him as her smaller body stood against his ass and back. Her smaller boots close to his. The weight and curves of her breasts somewhere against his back. He felt her, did not touch her, did not feel all of her through protective layers of leather and pants.

He wanted to fucking stop what he was doing, needing her so fucking her around, over the desk. Crash her into his chest and feel every bit of her, her naked skin under his hands.

But she declined him, her body steady behind him, her heels firmly on the wooden floor.

'Oh no Monroe,' her voice was as deadly silk, before she almost drove him out of his mind with fucking lust as she kept on going, 'I just did the exact same, thinking about a whole lot of things I maybe should not think about.'

She moved her hand over his.

She felt the breath of air Monroe let out, and she felt a glowing content. Seeing and feeling him panic and want her at the same time, was a warm glow of feeling in control.

Bass shook his head, still with his cock in his right hand.

'Don't stop.' She said, this time with a rough paint over her normally so firm voice.

He growled something before he let his hand move over his length as the head of his cock was wet with moist.

The thought of her, doing things to her pussy when she thought of him almost made him come. Her hands moved, one against his inner thigh so damn close to his balls. The other one, her arm now around his upper body, landed on his chest. The hand close to his balls felt like her in control, the other hand felt it was there to catch him.

The drum of her name came with every time he stroked himself, with her so damn close.

Just like she had been there on that day, when they had just came back from Vegas, before the attack Neville and Truman had launched on them, when he had snapped and lost it and she had intervened and had come between him and the old man, there at the river. Just like that moment, when her one hand had been on his arm, the other one on his back.

He had felt it, observed it. He had fucking killed people for looking at him the wrong way, he would have fucking killed anyone else for daring to step in and stop him like that. Not her, not Charlie.

Charlie felt his balls flap against his legs with small strong swings of every time he stroked himself more aggressively. The sound heavy, just like their shape. He was a wall of sheer ego and manly movements.

Bass felt her breath go faster, together with his, her slender body close to his as he leaned into her touch. Her hand, her fingers, digging into his chest, warm. Steady. Comforting. Familiar. Her other hand close to his damn balls and the hand he was using to get off as he whispered her name somewhere in the back of his throat.

And then she went in for the kill.

'I want to see you come Bass.'

Holy hell. It only took one stroke to finish him, as she steadied him with her arm around him, the fingers of her hand on his chest. Her softer belly against hard lines of his chest He slammed into her body with his back as hot cum sprung free.

'Fuck... Charlotte...' He let the words out in that moment when he could not fucking manage anymore to think straight and he came so hard he lost all sense of boundaries.

When he _was_ able to think straight she was still there behind him. Her name, with all that want for her locked inside of it like they locked eyes, still somewhere out there in the air.

Charlie felt him rest into her embrace. There was something about him unguarded, if only for those seconds when he came so hard she felt his thigh, and whole body tense up. Seeing Monroe come, feeling him come, but seeing him too, warm white pearls of coming hard like a damn hurricane, just like the wild storm he was, made her want him to fill her, completely, all of him around her.

Bass swallowed. Looked at the table. Turned his head as he had to close his eyes and let out a breath. He had not even realised her hands were moving away from his chest, until he missed them there.

Charlie watched Monroe, composing himself again, as his breath was almost back to normal. She felt his whole body tense in a different way.

He looked at her. She watched him narrow his eyes as she refused to look away.

Bass looked at her. Looks between them replaced all the words, when they could not speak, or did not want to. And then she looked at him one more time. A deep look, a moment they just shared in there. And he thought of her, liquid warmth waiting for him to have. To make his. To take. To take like he once had taken half the continent. His eyes intense, hers too as she looked back.

And then she turned. And walked out of the room. As he stood there, like he came into the room not ten minutes ago. Alone, with rage boiling, her on his mind next to an empty wooden desk.

* * *

 _Author's note Oh, these two, they are always so full of dynamics. This is for now a one shot, but maybe I add more. As this chapter was a part of him, well there could be one that is called, a part of her. It is nice to know, that the people who love Revolution, the characters, are still here. So, if you have time, a review is always welcome!_

 _Hope you enjoyed this bit of passionate dynamics._

 _Love from Love_


	2. Chapter 2 A piece of her

Bass walked through a silent hallway.

He had looked at her. _Charlotte._ At her turning, walking out of that damn room. Leaving him as he stood there, the same way he had stood there before she had walked in. Alone, with rage boiling at all the whining and bitching from everyone, rage for a brother that once was at this side. Rage in his veins, her on his mind and next to an empty wooden desk.

When he had adjusted himself, he could still feel her hand wrapped around his when he had pumped himself, a weakness she had discovered just now, in this room. Near this wooden desk.

A desk that mocked him again. Silently. Mocked him because this woman, girl, Miles' niece, this fighter, this slender frame of loyalty and taking no shit from everyone and stubbornness, had caught him of guard. Had been able to work his way under his skin and had made him come harder than he had come in a very long time.

He stared at the wood of the desk as a new rage started to spread. Dangerous rage, lust covered and lust filled.

God, he swore, Charlie Matheson was trouble. But he would show her some more.

* * *

She had left the door open, as she had walked upstairs their safe house and had walked into the room she had claimed as her own. Sleeping alone, in a room, under a roof was rare these days. Everybody was out, the floor of the house left alone.

The Texan day had turned into the Texan night and she had wanted to grab some shit she had left in the window sill. Her jacket, another knife. Her hands had reaching for but not been on her jacket yet when Charlie had heard his boots hitting the wooden floor behind her.

She felt a small grin forming around her lips. She knew he would be here. He would come for her. After this afternoon, after standing behind him. His hand finding release when she stood right behind him. Denying him her, making sure he felt he could have her, a piece of her, but not have her at all had left her tingling and filled with feeling in control.

She had smiled to herself, and when she had walked down the stairs she had avoided Connor's and Miles' looks who wanted to know more about that rare smile and what put it on her face, on her way out.

Charlie heard how he took lazy steps, lazy but with anticipation and taking the room as he would take a battlefield. His long legs and large boots made him cross the distance from hallway and open door to her within seconds.

She heard the edgy sound of the leather from his jacket before she felt the coolness of it against the bare skin of her upper arms. His strong wide arms, build of training, fighting and muscles, seemed so wide they would not stop next to her.

He was a wall behind her, of possibilities and dangerous corners her body wanted to explore.

Bass placed himself behind her, behind and next to her, almost cornering her. Between wall and him.

'You think you were so clever huh?' His first warning. It made her belly constrict in anticipation.

Bass watched her as he moved his face closer to her neck, to her ear, to see, watch, smell her. To make sure she would get every word. 'Don't you ever pull a stunt like that again, Charlotte.'

He sounded pissed. He sounded in control. His voice low, but not as low as she had once heard it. His voice went to and through her chest, making her insides and skin vibrate with his words. His voice was low, but also slow, precise, filled with warm breath and so in control when he spoke.

His voice was close to her ear and she could feel the rage turning into a hard piece of him against her thigh.

His body a silhouette of boots, belt, weapon tucked against his lower back, into his pants, under the jacket, sticking out for everyone to see. A warning. A promise what would happen if they would make a mistake, come to close to him or the people who he would protect. That list of people was not long. There were only three people right now that made the list. They would be there, he would be rip everyone apart who came too close.

His boots were firmly on the floor, as he stood with his legs a bit wide on her right. Making sure Charlie had nowhere to go, making sure she felt exactly how hard he was as he moved his weight from one leg to the other, in the process brushing his dick against her slender side. Only for him to pull back the moment he knew she had felt his dick right fucking there.

When he moved closer, his mind raging with every damn thing he wanted to do with her, Bass watched her looking so stubborn and defiant.

He would wipe that look right of her face. God, he used to be a General, respected, feared. Control. He used to be President, running the bigger part of the continent with ambition to take more from sea to shiny sea. This girl, she could leave him stunned, shocked, bringing out hell and fury, with her smirking that wide grin of hers, walking away in Vegas with _his_ men _. His_. Duncan had gave them to her, just to piss him of. _Dammit_ , it was not the whole truth and he knew it. Duncan had found the same respect for this girl as he had.

It made what he wanted, and hell, what he _was_ going to do to her, even more fucked like hell.

He stepped in closer, as his left arm went around her, her hand brushing her side, like a predator who stalked its prey.

It was the first time Monroe touched her like this, when his fingers made contact with the sensitive skin, straight through the fabric of her tank. It was the first time she had to fight her eyes from closing, from a breath that was about to escape.

She felt how he was slowly everywhere.

Bass looked at every inch of her stunning face, as his lips curled into cruel grin. He moved his fingers from her lower back to her side and back over her stomach towards the space between her tits.

Fuck. He wanted her bad. He told his cock and his damn mind to slow the fuck down. He needed more from her being stubborn, but her at the same time losing this fight under his breath.

Charlie felt her heart beat faster, felt how he pulsated in her blood. Bass' arm was now around her, as he moved her exactly where he wanted her, with slow preciseness. She could feel it warm and thick and liquid sliding between where her thighs touched.

Bass made sure he locked her in, her shoulder blades now against his chest, as he had moved more behind her and he had moved Charlie more in front of him. His arm now around her and on his way to her throat, under her arm, locking her in complete.

It was fucking addictive. This look on her face, changing to want and screaming lust and back to her fighting for control.

But she was losing. He had seen it in interrogations. The moment people broke.

When his free hand moved to her pants, quick and clever fingers had her button open in no time. He let her jeans fall open, exposing a part of her black panties. She was breathing hard under his arm, under his fingers that were still close to her neck, digging into the skin there. He watched her smooth belly, as he was towering above her, taller as she was. The black panties, against smooth skin, there open between her pants falling open, made him bite back a groan.

Charlie felt him breathing, she felt how his fingers moved into the skin around her collarbones, she felt how he played with her. She knew Monroe's strength, she had witnessed it. She had never felt it wrapped around her body. And the thought that he was still holding back, brought her dangerously close to release.

Until now, Monroe had been standing tall behind her, one arm around her body, one hand around her neck, and that was all he needed to keep her there.

Until now.

She registered how he moved his other hand to the line of her panties. She told herself to slow down her breathing. To stay in control, this was about _her_ , her getting what she wanted.

She lost that control.

It became all about what she needed from him.

'Tell me something,' his voice was even more dangerous and low close to her ear as he kept moving his hand lower over her belly. 'Back there, you told me you had been thinking about...certain things.'

Charlie's breath quickened even more. She was afraid he was going to let her come just with his words.

'Did those things...' Bass moved his hand even lower, his fingers now in her panties, against her skin, the knuckles of his large hand brushing her thigh through the fabric of panties and pants, as he took pride and lustful enjoyment in every second she was caving, '...include me?'

A soft moan was his answer.

He grinned. Cruel, smug. He moved his nose closer to her ear, just to mess with her even more, knowing she hated and needed him at the same time closer to her.

Charlie felt the smug arrogant breath of air against her ear, a fast low wave of sound. 'I'm afraid I did not heat that, Charlotte.'

She only wanted more of his fingers. So she gave in.

'Yes...' Her whispers was low and out of breath.

'Tell me Charlotte...' He laced his voice with rough colours, as his lips were now so close to her neck. His fingers so damn close to her warm core, as he felt how drenched she was. As Charlie felt he kept his hand still but his fingers, his fingertips moved closer, just enough to make her feel the movement closer to her warmth.

'You...' She breathed into his touch.

She knew where he was waiting for. She knew what he wanted. She knew what was at stake here.

Bass added more pressure to her neck with his fingers as he started to slowly circle her clit. He waited. Felt her struggle.

She was so wet _dammit,_ and she was still Charlie. Blazing attitude, fighting heart and yet, here, her pussy clenching towards him, her thighs aching for him, a storm about to break loose.

He would give it to her, all of her. But first he needed to hear her say it. It would be his victory. It would be a lot more.

Another taste of his scent, of leather, another feel of his strong arm around her side, over her chest, pressing on her boobs and his skilful fingers into her panties made her cave. She moved her left arm, clasped it over his under arm, her fingers digging into skin. Feeling his bandana, feeling the scar tissue on his underarm, feeling his strength, raw and masculine. Not to stop him. But to brace herself for what would be next.

'Bass...' She let out, contained and almost losing all of her control. That part that was still left.

Bass' eyes lit up as he had to suck in a breath. It was like a fucking hit into his face.

Charlie felt it, felt the suck in of the breath in his chest, felt how his fingers hooked around her skin in her panties and moved inside of her. Slowly, widely.

Bass had to fight back a curse, inside of him, as he felt the moment his fingers slipped inside of her so damn easy. She was warm and with soft skin around his fingers. Adding more movement, and pressure, releasing her warmth again, moving out of her as Bass hooked his fingers again deep inside of her to find more of her.

Charlie felt the contradiction of her warmth and wetness to his rough skin. His fingers moved with precision, with knowing what he was doing, god, this man knew what he was doing. And she realised, where she was. His hand close to her neck. Locked against his chest. One word, one wrong look and he would combust.

It was everything that made her crave him more, everything that woke her body up in a way it had not before.

He used her own words against her.

'I want to see you come, Charlie.' His voice was now laced with need, with honest lust and it was there, right there, how he felt how Charlie almost went through her knees at his words, as he felt how thigh she was around his fingers. How she pushed her thighs against his hand.

When Charlie came in his arms, it was everything. His fingers dug deep into the skin of her neck, because lust had nowhere else to go with his dick hard and aching in his damn pants. Adding more to this dangerous game they were playing. He held her, her weight over and against his own hand between her thighs, her hand still wrapped around his upper left arm.

Charlie felt her orgasm build up around his hands. Her whole core, her thighs wanting to form around his hand and fingers. And then she came. Hard. With his harsh breathing and her head finding that nook of his neck.

He let her.

Two people in a room that should both not be there for so many reasons. Silk lust, breathing harshly.

And there, where he had giving himself away by forgetting to call her Charlotte, and went for the Charlie that rolled of his lips, when he needed her to come, in the heat of that moment of need and want.

And there where she had giving herself away with her head searching for the nook of his warm neck to ride out her orgasm they touched something more.

More trouble.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** So, sorry for the long wait! After your reviews and feedback, and thank you so much for them, I loved knowing you all wanted to read more. I am trying to go find and go back to those hard interesting dynamics between them in my writing, of pushing away and looking for the other again. A Bass with a craving for control, with a Charlie fighting her need and feelings for him. I tried to explore that more here, try new things in my writing. I want to try and write and explore more of that in future pieces. I love writing stories I am currently working on, like Choices, but I also love to catch them in season two, like this.


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